


And He Wept at the Door

by Talullah



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Christian Bible (Old Testament), תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Potiphar reflects on his choices...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And He Wept at the Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracofiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracofiend/gifts).



_And Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served him made him overseer over his house, and all that he had he put into his hand._ Genesis 39:4

 

"Prepare thyself, who stand at the door. Prepare thyself for truth and judgement."

The voice was low, even, controlled. Its lack of emotion made Potiphar think of a bored clerk, not of a god. Maybe he was in the wrong place. He did not feel dead.

Yet, around him shadows agitated in strange hues. The lamps burned blue, casting ominous shapes to the vague forms that tended to him. He thought he saw the head of jackal; his heart sunk in his chest. No, that was not his heart; his chest felt hollow like a dead man's should. What had emerged had been guilt and fear. His day had come.

He was lifted from the table and led to the threshold. From his position he could see Thoth sitting on a dais, his writing desk comfortably settled on his crossed legs. An intelligent glint flickered on his simiesque eyes when they met with Potiphar's. He could not tell if there was a note of amusement there or not.

The choice of when to move forward and face judgement seemed to be his. He hesitated for a long while, the sickening growls of Ammit reminding him of his chosen fate. For long Potiphar had chosen to believe that he had been a victim of circumstances; now he could not lie further. He had not been a victim; Joseph had.

He took a step forward. Forty-three solemn heads turned to face him. Osiris raised an eyebrow in a silent invitation. Potiphar knew it was time to say the words, the words that in his mouth would be vile lies.

Potiphar swallowed dry. "Hail to thee, great God, Lord of the Two Truths," he started, his parched throat obeying reluctantly. "I have come unto thee, my Lord, that thou mayest bring me to see thy beauty. I know thee, I know thy name, I know the names of the forty- two gods who are with thee in this broad hall of the Two Truths..." Osiris nodded, a hint of a quirk bowing his generous lips into something that was not quite a smile.

Potiphar continued, the ritual words flowing more freely from his lips. "Behold, I am come unto thee. I have brought thee truth."

Osiris and his forty-two judges waited. The pause stretched for so long that even Thoth raised his eyes. Finally, Potiphar accepted that the moment of truth had arrived; there was no point in prolonging the agony of uncertainty.

I have done away with sin for thee. I have not sinned against anyone. I have not mistreated people. I have not done evil instead of righteousness...

He refused the old words. They would not fool the gods or help him find forgiveness.

"I have sinned," he said. "I have sinned against my servant. I mistreated him gravely. I abided by convenient lies for the sake of my comfort, letting an innocent suffer in my stead."

The silence turned black as the images flooded his mind.

* * *

Zulaikha shrieked, holding torn clothes in her hands as dark rivers of kohl descended down her cheeks. Potiphar listened to her bitter accusations in silence, scanning the faces of his servants who gathered behind her in the common room. He searched for one who would come forth with the truth and save Joseph. Not for a single moment did he trust Zulaikha's tears.

"Where is Joseph?" he asked when she paused briefly for breath.

The heavy silence was only punctuated by Zulaikha's heavy breathing. Some turned their faces to the ground, but not Zulaikha. She stood gasping, clasping the tatters of Joseph's cape to her chest before another wave of furious accusations rolled from her.

"Joseph?!" she screeched feigning incredulity. "Joseph? A rapist and a would-be murderer were it not for these good people, and you call him by his name as if he were a sweet maiden? But oh yes, he has ever been that to you, hasn't he?"

Before he could stop himself, Potiphar slapped her. One of the slaves gasped; the others had shock plainly written on their faces though they dared not raise their eyes. Zulaikha just stared at him, mouth agape.

"How could you?" she asked, incredulous. "How could you?"

Potiphar lowered his gaze to his hand, as if it belonged to another man. Violence was not in his nature. He was a good man, a good master, a good husband. Or he had been. Defeated, he turned his back on his audience.

"Benipe," he called to his eldest slave. "Gather the men and search for Joseph."

* * *

It took three days for Joseph to be brought in. Zulaikha had gone to her father's home where her claims had been promptly taken for truth. Potiphar's father-in-law had a long arm and the Pharaoh's men had soon joined the chase. By the time Potiphar was called to the jailhouse, Joseph's beautiful face was reduced to a bloody mass. He lay curled on his cot; Potiphar shuddered at the thought of what damage the clothes might hide.

Upon hearing the door opening, Joseph looked up, opening his good eye. "I didn't do it," he croaked with urgency in his broken voice.

Potiphar cast an awry glance at the guard and slipped him some coins for privacy. When the footsteps faded, Potiphar thought it was safe enough. He knelt by Joseph's cot. "I know."

Joseph essayed a smile that soured into a grimace. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"I'll do everything I can... but it's not looking good. It is the word of a woman of high birth against a slave. The others will say nothing, and their testimony wouldn't count in any case."

Joseph nodded. "They never liked me. I was too loyal to you for their twisted tastes." He sounded bitter.

"You have been more than loyal." Potiphar reached to caress Joseph's face but settled for his shoulder, afraid of hurting him further. "You have been the only joy I've known in these last few years."

"For me too... Can you change her mind? Is there any hope at all?" Joseph asked.

Potiphar rested silent, his head lowered in defeat.

"Will I be put to death?" Joseph insisted.

"No!" Potiphar rose from the cot and paced the room. "You are my property, you cannot be executed without my consent and I will never yield to that, regardless of what pressures Zulaikha's family puts on me. You might have to stay here for a while, though. And..." Potiphar arrested himself.

"And?" Joseph asked.

"I will not be able to show any measure of support publicly..."

Joseph sunk into the cot. "I understand," he said.

"You must think that I am a coward..." Potiphar said, hoping for of acquittal despite the circumstances.

Joseph did not reply.

"You know how sacred marriage is and what I have made of it," Potiphar insisted. "Our love was never meant to be."

"Do not call it love then. Go and forget me." Joseph's voice had been little more than a whisper, but the disappointment it carried rang loudly in the tiny cell.

Potiphar came closer, reaching an uncertain hand to touch Joseph. "I didn't mean it that way," he tried when Joseph pulled back. "There is nothing more important to me than you."

"And yet, you are ready to be parted from me?" Before Potiphar could reply, Joseph took his hand, clasping it almost painfully. "We could run. We could live beyond the river, beyond the sea. Have I not served you well? Has our love been nothing?"

Potiphar sighed. "Joseph, you are young. We would be hunted down like rabid dogs before the sun rose again and then I would be powerless to help. And even if we escaped the Pharaoh's hand, we would not last the hardships of the wilderness."

"You are not even willing to try," Joseph accused.

Potiphar could not reply to that. He left the cell, closing the door behind him on the one person who had truly loved him.

* * *

"Adulterous you are," said the god. "We favour not fornication."

Potiphar darted his eyes in the direction of the scale; the feather twitched and rose ever so slightly. His heart sank.

"I sinned for love," he protested.

"That love belonged to your wife, not your slave," the god pointed out.

"She would not have it," Potiphar said, the pungency of his bitterness surprising him after so many years.

"You blame your actions on her, is that it?" Osiris' voice became menacing.

"I did, for many years. Even now a part of my heart is blackened by hate but she was not always what she became, a bitter hateful woman. And in that, I blame myself."

The god raised an eyebrow. "Let us hear it, then."

Potiphar drew a sigh. "We married young. I thought it was love and so did she, but the years went by and no children came. She saw her sisters grow into motherhood while she was left barren. I supposed she blamed me - her family had always been fertile. Another couple could have divorced and searched for happiness elsewhere, but I had become enamoured of the advantages of belonging to her father's family. I kept convincing her and myself that we would be happy once more and that children would come while a rift wide as the Nile formed between us."

"Let greed be added to his sins," Osiris said, casting his eyes over Thoth. Again, the feather moved. Ammit purred in anticipation of the juicy heart that awaited him.

Potiphar knelt, sinking his chin to his chest. "Oh Lord," he begged. "I have not been worthy to Zulaikha or Joseph, but..."

"But?" The god snorted. "How many 'buts' do I hear every day? Countless as the stars, surely." A few judges nodded their agreement. "What have you to weigh for you?"

Potiphar dared not look up. The words were dry as sand, and just as abrasive leaving his mouth in clusters of pain.

"I have had no knowledge of useless men.  
I did not rise in the morning and expect more than was due to me.  
I have not brought my name forward to be praised.  
I have not oppressed servants.  
I have not scorned any god.  
I have not defrauded the poor of their property.  
I have caused no man to hunger.  
I have not killed.  
I have not given the order to kill.  
I have not inflicted pain on anyone.  
I have not stolen the drink left for the gods in the temples.  
I have not stolen the cakes left for the gods in the temples.  
I have not stolen the cakes left for the dead in the temples.  
I have not diminished the bushel when I've sold it.  
I have not added to or stolen land.  
I have not encroached on the land of others.  
I have not added weights to the scales to cheat buyers.  
I have not misread the scales to cheat buyers.  
I have not stolen milk from the mouths of children.  
I have not driven cattle from their pastures.  
I have not captured the birds of the preserves of the gods.  
I have not caught fish with bait made of like fish.  
I have not held back the water when it should flow.  
I have not diverted the running water in a canal.  
I have not put out a fire when it should burn.  
I have not violated the times when meat should be offered to the gods.  
I have not driven off the cattle from the property of the gods.  
I have not stopped a god in his procession through the temple."

"You omit too much from your confession," Osiris said, "but to those sins you have confessed already. If this is all then let the scales pronounce their truth."

"In the end, I kept my word to both of them," Potiphar hastily said before Osiris lowered his arm to give the order. Forty-three heads turned to face him.

"I did what I could to preserve my servant's life and improve his conditions in prison. I even badgered the Pharaoh's man to remember and free him. From that, only good came to Egypt. Joseph showed his full promise at the court and was indeed our salvation in the years of famine. It was not easy - all eyes were set on me and I risked much."

"And in the end, I gave my wife the child she so wanted. There was no love left between us, my infidelity and her perjury a gulf too wide to cross, but there was respect and a measure of peace."

Slowly Osiris lowered his arm. All eyes were set on the scale, even Thoth's. Fear washed over Potiphar as the plates wavered, the feather so incredibly light against his sinful heart. Fear gave his words wings.

"I cannot say that  
I have not caused pain.  
I have made no one weep.  
I have not fornicated.  
I have not wrought evil in the place of right and truth.  
I have brought about no evil.  
I have not done what the gods abominate."

"But no malice has tainted my actions. Cowardice, yes, indolence and greed too, but never ill-intent. I loved them both at a time and I tried to redeem myself as I could. For all evil that has come from my actions, good also came. I loved them."

As the last words rang through the room, laden with despair, Potiphar lowered his eyes to the ground. He could not bear the sight of the monster waiting to punish him.

The cold sceptre of Osiris touched his shoulder. "A bad deed does not make a bad man. Much is forgiven because you have loved much." A few of his judges nodded. Fearfully, Potiphar raised his eyes. By Thoth's side, the scales wavered, slowly tilting to one side. The feather sank as his heart lifted, lighter than it had been in years. Relief washed through Potiphar with such power that he wept.

Osiris held his sceptre high and touched the rock wall behind him. A passage opened, letting in a shy ray of sunlight and the scent of hay. Potiphar crossed the distance and stood by Osiris. He could hear laughter and a simple tune from the other side. A tune he had not heard in an age, the type of tune a young Hebrew shepherd would hum to his lover. The voice came closer, unmistakable now. Joseph. Could this be? Could he have been saved by the grace of love?

"Go forth and find your dream," Osiris said. "It will grant you the eternal life of the soul."

Potiphar did not hesitate; he knew what dream beckoned on the other side, the most perfect moments of his life.

It was mid-harvest and the air wavered before his eyes, so intense was the heat. Joseph had been in his house for a year and had just celebrated his seventeenth birthday. In a generous impulse, Potiphar had offered him freedom, but Joseph has cast his lovely eyes low, saying that he preferred to rest where he was. Potiphar's heart had leapt. He had tempted the boy with the idea of marriage to some good woman. Joseph had claimed his heart to be full, flicking his eyes up, the truth plainly written on his handsome features. Potiphar's heart had risen to his throat as their lips met. It did not feel like a sin; it was sheer bliss. The harvest songs sounded from afar as they had tasted each other, a long, hot afternoon spent in the pleasures of new-found love. Then Joseph had hummed an innocent song and they had slept.

Potiphar opened his eyes. On the other side Joseph smiled, young and hopeful. Potiphar touched his cheek. He was real. The vision melted into reality as Potiphar crossed the threshold into Joseph's arms. Logic told him this had to be an illusion, Joseph, who belonged to another god, here, alive, but he ignored it. The ritual words reverberated through the fields before them.

I am pure.  
I am pure.  
I am pure.  
I am pure.

 

_Finis_  
_May 2007_

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to elfscribe5 for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for slashfest, for dracofiend who requested "Potiphar/Joseph; Potiphar is gentle with his newest slave, and Joseph serves well. But then Potiphar's wife has to go and ruin everything."
> 
> Potiphar's first words and the ritual sentences are from The Book of the Dead, chapter 125. The whole deal can be found here. Those curious enough to read it, will find that I severely edited the ceremony...
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)  
> Benipe (iron) taken from this site
> 
> According to some sources I found in my brief research, while adultery was condemned in Ancient Egypt, divorce was a rather simple thing, hence Potiphar's remark.
> 
> Osiris last words are paraphrased from Luke 7:36-50 (Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath loved much).


End file.
